


Work equals Style

by fyreuk



Category: Mianite - Fandom, the realm of mianite
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3974932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyreuk/pseuds/fyreuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dianite likes Mot's hair when it's short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Work equals Style

“Your hair’s getting longer.”

Mot turned his head from the balcony of the large single office towards the now stood God next to him, leaning his back against the metal fence while Mot looks beyond Inerta in front of him while he crosses his arms on top of the fence. He looks at Dianite with a confused glare before speaking up:

“Is hair important to you all of a sudden?”

“No, I just said your hair is getting longer.” Dianite smirked at Mot before lighting up a cigarette he ‘retrieved’ out of thin air, putting it up to his lips and sucking the nicotine.

“Those are bad for you.”

“Seriously? I’m a God, I’m not going to die of lung problems.”

“You don’t know, there could be permanent damage.” Mot grinned at Dianite while the God rolled his eyes and puffed out the leftover smoke.

“Since when can you tell me what to do?”

“Since you’ve chosen me as your Champion, why do you think you can comment on my hair?”

“Because, I like it when your hair’s shorter.”

“Pff, what?”

“I like it when your hair’s shorter.” Dianite repeated in a monotone voice with a mocking tone, Mot just scoffed and punched Dianite’s arm lightly.

“I like mine when it’s longer, why do you care anyway?”

“Because when you’re champion, you have to be at least attractive and lure everyone.”

“Well I’ve lured you with my looks!”

“Not really your looks, more of your loyalty-”

“AND looks.” Mot stepped away from the fence and struck a ridiculous pose to Dianite, showing off his attire. Dianite just chuckled and flicked the cigarette he held to him, Mot whined and brushed off the ash that fell onto his shirt.

“Jerk.” Mot pouted before leaning against the fence again, he thought for a moment before looking at Dianite again: “Actually, you shouldn’t be saying anything about my hair - yours is longer!”

“That’s because my hair actually looks good on me.”

Mot went to complain but sighed, shrugging and smiling a little, mumbling under his breath: “You’re not wrong…”

“Hmm?"

“Nothing, anyway - I’ll think about it. But I won’t do it for you.”

“You’d do anything for me!”

“Anything that's nothing to do with my attire, Dia!" Mot started before turning on his heel and walking away, chuckling a little as he exited - leaving Dianite alone on the balcony.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Mot shouted before going through the open, large red door that leads out of the office.

 

If Mot only knew what was to happen about an hour later.

When he saw the unfamiliar, cloaked figure climb up to Dianite’s office to the balcony - he knew his God had to be in trouble. While cradling the little, young CountryBat in his arms, Mot quickly runs up the stairs from floor to floor into the God’s office. 

All the way, he was thinking about how many possibilities that could happen when he enters through those doors of the office - positive and negative. Unfortunately for Mot, all was negative. Seeing the dying body of Dianite was over the edge of breaking point for him as he settled the sleeping CountryBat onto the carpet and ran over to the body.

He kept his hair short since that day.


End file.
